“Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.” –Charles Dickens, David Copperfield
I was born. It was a bitter cold autumn night in 1997, in a questionable hospital that may or may not still be intact…ok fine it was University of Michigan Hospital. My mother suffered some minor nerve damage at my birth, and was quite relieved when I lay in her arms a small innocent thing. Though it was so long ago I think I can recall the sound of church bells in the distance. This serene silence was broken by the voice of my patriarch, smiling ear to ear and laughing in that false bass voice of his, “Luke, I am your father.” Even in those days, fanboys existed.